


Home Is Where the Giant Mechanical Cats Are

by ZygomaticBliss



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (But his family lives in Memphis), And he's got a lot of them, BAMF Allura (Voltron), Bigotry & Prejudice, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Florida, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I'm Not Ashamed, M/M, New Orleans, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Original Autistic Character, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Orphan Shiro, Past Spousal Abuse, Protective Hunk, Road Trips, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Team Voltron Family, Team Voltron Goes Home, area 51, conspiracy theorist keith, lance loves his family, mentions of domestic violence, nature porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZygomaticBliss/pseuds/ZygomaticBliss
Summary: The Galra have been defeated, and it's time for Team Voltron to return home, at least for a little bit. After all, the Holt family has yet to be united, Keith has yet to find his answers, and the universe will always need defending. But for now, the team have earned a break, involving road trips, family, friendship, love, and the chance to see whether or not you really can go home again.





	1. Prologue

Team Voltron were greeted back into the solar system by the sound of rain bouncing off the roof and windows of the Castle. Of course, each of the Earthlings aboard knew that the sound was really the space debris from the Keiper Belt bouncing off the hull, that each clink was the product of a collision with at least the velocity of a speeding bullet and likely much more force than a human could understand. But they were going home, so each of them allowed the fantasy.

* * *

 

Lance picked at a thread in his jeans, allowing the memories to form. His sisters, sat in front of him, painting his toenails electric blue and reading _A Wrinkle in Time_ to him to distract him from the hurricane outside. Years later, taking care of his little brothers the same way, except with Power Ranger coloring books and _The Phantom Tollbooth._ And the night _Tía_ Violeta came, in tears and bruises, with lightning bisecting the sky and twin infants in her arms. How the whispered plans of terrified and heartbroken adults rumbled louder through the night than the thunder.

He closed his eyes, but still he felt the weight of his cousins in his arms and the sound of Madeleine L’Engle in his ears. _“The only way to cope with something deadly serious is to try to treat it a little lightly.”_

* * *

 

Hunk stood in the arch of the doorway, listening to the rain. He looked out at the stars, but he only saw Mary. His little sister. The little girl who was so much the inverse of him - small and dainty where he was large and solid, quiet and collected where he was loud and brash, brave and beautiful where he was timid and disgraceful. He saw her rocking as the storm clouds rolled in, singing the songs from _Seussical_ from beginning to end, over and over and over and over… Hunk saw her the day she was diagnosed with autism. The day Dad left. The day her heart was left shattered on the floor, and he watched as she put it back together again. He saw her in that moment, when he was first truly aware that he loved her, not in abstract, not out of biological bias, but because she was worth it.

He heard his tearful vow, barely audible over the sound of thunder and his mother's tears downstairs and "Alone in the Universe" and the way the house still shuddered around that slammed front door.

“I will never leave you alone.”

And he closed his eyes against it all, ashamed.

* * *

 

Pidge heard the rain like a heartbeat. They felt it in their throat, in their temples, in their wrists, and it feels like a lifeline.

Like, if only they could tap in to the sound of the rain, and follow it back to the beginning, when they laid across their father's chest, hands linked with Matt's, reading together. Einstein and Sagan and Neil Degrasse Tyson, but also Narnia and Tolkien and Stephen King. Like, if they could trap those moments in a bottle and live in them forever, maybe then they'd be happy.

Like, if only they could become one of those asteroids clinking off the glass, or one of the raindrops orchestrating their happy childhood, they could forget that, even though they were going back to Earth, they weren't really going home.

Their fingers trembled against the interface with the Castle's database. Pidge closed their eyes to better listen to the rain, and pretended they didn't hear a ticking clock. Or a death march.

* * *

 

Shiro looked out at the vast emptiness of space, but with the sound of the rain, he could pretend it doesn't echo inside of him. He let himself pretend, for just a moment, that the weight of his bayard didn't make him want to drop to his knees. He let himself pretend that watching the life leave Zarkon’s eyes didn't linger, haunting in his dreams. He let himself pretend that maybe now, maybe now at last he could be happy.

He heard the rain bouncing off black umbrellas and wondered if the whole thing was planned. Wondered who cared enough about the umbrellas all matching, but not enough about the boy wailing and thrashing in grief in the mud and his parents’ ashes. Wondered if, at heart, he'll ever stop being that boy.

The seam at his wrist where metal meets flesh burned. Shiro closed his eyes and pretended to find comfort in the rain.

* * *

 

Keith fiddled with his bayard and thought about the desert. It never rained there, not while he was there. It didn't rain at the Garrison either, although he couldn't be sure of that, living underground and trying not to murder someone.

Was that the Galra in him? His anger, his readiness for violence, his distinctive _otherness…_ He was starting to believe it wasn't just a gay thing. Maybe it was an alien thing. (Or a gay alien thing. Who was he to judge?)

He wished he could have gotten answers from Kolivan right after the victory over Zarkon, but he was so tired… So tired of Galra blood and Galra blades and Galra wars… Keith just wanted to go home.

He dropped his bayard in his lap and closed his eyes, fighting his exhaustion to block out the rain. It wasn't his. It would never be his.

* * *

 

Allura and Coran didn't hear the rain, for liquid precipitation on Altea was rare and mostly silent, but they saw the weariness in their paladins’ faces and understood regardless.

“We'll be arriving in Earth's orbit in a little less than a dobosh,” Coran announced, and each paladin opened their eyes, returning to the present and to the Castle. “If there are any last preparations you need to make, I suggest you do them now.”

Shiro inhaled sharply, and held it. “Alright team, let's circle up.” He turned around and reminded himself that he did, in fact, know how to be a leader. (It didn’t work.) “I know all of you are excited to see your homes and families, but we have to get through the tough stuff first. I don't think I have to remind you of the stakes of this.” He met the eyes of each of his teammates, breathed out and in again. “Be respectful, be dignified, be supportive of one another - especially of Allura, Coran, and Pidge. Each of them will be held to a higher standard than the rest of us because of their race, gender, or both. Once we get through this, then we can make plans for our downtime. Not before. Any questions?”

Pidge raised their hand, and Shiro nodded at them. “Will we be taking our lions back?”

Allura shook her head. “Shiro and I discussed it, but we decided that taking a pod down as a group would appear the most non-threatening and unified. If your authorities want a demonstration of Voltron, I have no objection, but otherwise they should stay in the Castle.”

“Aw, I'm gonna miss Blue,” Lance whined. “She and I get along better every day.”

“God knows why,” Keith mumbled.

“Hey, I heard that!”

Hunk leaned over and slapped his hands over both boys’ mouths, cutting them off. “More importantly, can we bring stuff back to the Castle with us?” Lance and Keith stopped trying to kill the Yellow Paladin with their eyes, instead joining him and Pidge in a cutthroat game of “Who's Got the Saddest Paladin Puppy Dog Eyes?”

Coran, grateful that Alfor had taught him how to resist truly pathetic paladins, replied, “Within reason.”

“'Reason’ meaning only 5 boxes of Oreos, or 'reason’ meaning no boxes of Oreos?”

“'Reason’ meaning that if Allura, Coran, and I say no, you don't try to figure out how we actually mean yes,” Shiro said, cutting off Coran’s initial inquiry of what an “Oreo” was.

“And if it won't fit in your room, I suggest you leave it behind,” Allura added. “Anything else?” After a tick of silence, she nodded. “Alright, change into your armor. We should be there in no time at all.”

* * *

 

As the paladins left for their rooms, they heard the rain fade away as they entered the solar system properly. But in its place, a rumbling like thunder filled the Castle, the excited purring of five large, mechanical lions, each eager for home.


	2. The Garrison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron thinks back on their time at the Garrison, and decides on what comes next.

Lance kept his eyes on the Castle as they drifted further and further from it, but he didn’t really see it, too focused on his bond with his Lion. He knew the logic behind leaving them behind, knew that a small armada of alien technology descending upon the Earth would not go over well, no matter who the pilots were or who they fought for. Still, he really grew to love the sight of his girl every dobosh, the sense of belonging at the controls, the sound and feeling of her purring when he was feeling less than himself (or like he, himself was the less).

And, although he would never, never, never, never, _never_ admit it to Keith, he would miss the feeling of bonding with his team, the comfort and challenge of their minds working alongside his.

He didn’t want to look at the Earth until they were on the surface. While Pidge, Hunk, and Coran were practically plastered to the front of the pod, excitedly chattering about the clouds and the different continents and oceans and what they were looking forward to seeing most. He knew what he most wanted to see, and he knew that wouldn’t be visible from the outer atmosphere. No one’s home or family would be.

And he didn’t want to talk politics or strategy with Shiro or Allura. He knew what awaited him at the Garrison, and he was putting the thought off as long as possible. He knew he had changed out in space, grown into his own skin, and, in a way, into the skins of the people around him. He wasn’t likely to crash anything he piloted anymore, simulation or not, and he was even less likely to quake at the feet of anyone who chewed him out anymore. And God help anyone who tried to jump on one of his teammates. He liked who he was now, for the most part, but he struggled to fit who he was now into the Earth he knew. He wondered if it was even possible anymore.

So, no talking with Space Mom and Dad, no gossiping with the Kids, which left…

“Hey.” He turned his head, surprised despite himself at Keith, who had joined him at the rear-facing window.

“Hey,” he replied, allowing some of the curiosity he felt to color his voice.

“What are you doing back here?” Keith asked. Lance turned back to the Castle, wondered if it was paranoia or distance that made it look so much smaller.

“Saying goodbye,” he answered. “I’m going to miss Blue so much when we get there. And the Castle. Don’t tell Hunk, but I may even miss the food goo.”

“We’re only going to be gone a couple of weeks,” Keith said. Lance smiled at the exasperation and confusion in the other paladin’s voice until he added, “Unless you don’t plan on coming back with us?”

Lance turned so quick, he thought for a moment he gave himself whiplash. Not that it mattered because, “Of course I’m coming back with you guys! What the quiznak makes you think I’m going to leave?”

Keith had the decency to look sheepish and apologetic – or constipated, but Lance chose to think he looked sheepish and apologetic, damn it – when he said, “I thought you missed your family?”

Lance sighed, turned back to the Castle, cursed the Galra that it looked so much smaller – almost like another moon by now. “I do. But a couple of weeks is more than enough time to miss Voltron. Besides…” He trailed off, remembering that he was not, in fact, talking to Shiro or Hunk, or someone who would at least pretend to understand him. He did not need to be talking about family problems with actual-Galra-family Keith; he’d been enough of an ass to him today.

(It was a testament to the depths of his melancholy that he did not smirk at the memory of a squawking Keith covered in food goo and the feathers he’d collected from a race of alien chickens they’d met months ago. “What?” he’d asked, all mock innocence. “One for the road, right?”)

(He did not mention the worry that it’d be the last chance he’d have to prank Keith for weeks yet. Not when he didn’t understand it himself.)

“Besides…?” Keith asked, taking him out of his parenthetical memories. Lance sighed once more, knowing how dogged Keith could get when he was curious about something.

“Besides, I’m not sure how much I’m going to miss them when I’m with them.” Keith’s face cleared, and Lance was surprised to find the understanding there.

“Something tells me that you don’t have to worry too much about that,” Keith said, looking out at the Castle himself. Lance rolled his eyes, and Keith nudged him. “I’m serious. Take it from someone who’s been there.”

“How do you mean?”

Keith kept his eyes on the window, his eyes reflecting the stars and the darkness equally – Lance’s first clue that they were having a Moment™ –  and drummed his fingers against the glass, reminiscent of the rain from earlier. “Did you know that Shiro and I were roommates at the Garrison?”

“No…”

“Well, we were. He may have been years ahead of me – God knows why they put us in a room together – but we were close, even back then. I’d always thought of him as a brother, especially since I’d had such a hard time making friends at the Garrison.” Keith’s eyes were far away, and Lance thought back to the boy whose world seemed to revolve around making fighter class, wondered why he never noticed the absence of other people around him.

“And then Kerberos…” he whispered.

“And then Kerberos,” Keith agreed. “One of his first missions took him to the edges of the galaxy. I was proud of him in time, but not before he left. The last words I said to him were…not pretty. And boy, did I hate myself for them the moment he disappeared.”

“Christ, Keith.” And Lance thought he had problems.

“Yeah, not my finest hour, and not exactly the best for my state of mind. I had a meltdown after one of the instructors used the Kerberos mission as an example for us – what happens to pilots who don’t try their hardest –”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, but at least it freed up my time after that to help try to find Shiro, because if they thought the Kerberos had gone missing because of one of his mess-ups, they did not know Shiro.” He took a breath, oblivious to Lance mentally erasing the terms “dropout” and “desert dweller” from his mental dictionary.

“We made up pretty much as soon as he got back, of course – you know Shiro, not a petty bone in his body – but I noticed right away that he wasn’t the same Shiro that had left m- left the Garrison that day.” Keith finally took his eyes off the stars and looked at Lance. “At first I blamed myself, but it didn’t take too long to realize exactly whose fault it was. It’s part of why I fought so hard to stay on Arus and fight. The second I knew who they were, I hated the Galra.”

“Never have I been more glad that you won an argument,” Lance joked. “Actually, never have I been glad at all that you won an argument, but you get this one.”

“How gracious of you,” Keith replied dryly. “My point is, I missed him as soon as he got back. I missed the guy who could always find a way to move past the inevitable awkward silences and the guy who always had time to help with my bullshit. But the thing was? By the time we had left Arus, I didn’t miss him anymore. The Shiro who came back was just as awesome as the one who left.”

“Yeah, but-”

“The same is going to hold true with your family, Lance,” Keith said. “You irritate me daily, goof off constantly, could really use a sign warning every female of every race of exactly how flirtatious you are, and this team would fall apart without you in an instant.”

Now, Lance was sure he got whiplash.

“You aren’t the same asshole who left Earth,” Keith added. “You’re a better one. And your family would be blind not to notice that.”

Lance turned back to the window, not even noticing the fact that he couldn’t even pick out the Castle among all the bright points in the sky before him, too distracted by the heat working its way up his neck. Who knew Keith could actually be nice?

“And if you mention any part of this conversation with anyone, I will deny it.” Lance smirked as he looked back at Keith, who was walking back toward the front of the pod. Now there was the Kogane he knew.

* * *

 

Shiro allowed himself to relax the second the last of the team got back into the makeshift waiting room – a Garrison rec lounge with a curtain strung up for Pidge and Allura to change behind. He smiled at the latter as she passed him, trying to convey pride and encouragement, but figured he only looked gassy.

He couldn’t help it; he’d _felt_ bloated from the moment the pod touched down outside the Garrison. Everything about being back on Earth had an element of the uncanny – from the blue skies that he couldn’t help but associate with the skies of Arus, where his team had first formed Voltron, to the rocky mountains in the distance that had a distinct resemblance to the surface of the Balmera as it died. (With but a glance, he could tell that the similarities were not lost on Hunk, either.) Even being back in the Garrison had the strangest feeling of displacement, like he and the boy he had been here – desperate to prove himself as a pilot, envious of the natural brilliance of Matt Holt and Keith Kogane in science and flight, ashamed of his shallow jealousy of his two best friends, willing to do anything to leave the Earth behind for just a little while (and just look how that turned out) – were two different people, staring at each other through the lens of time and disappointed in what they saw.

“You weren’t kidding, Shiro,” Pidge sighed, collapsing half on top of the couch, half on top of Hunk. Completely unsurprised by the fact that he was being used as a pillow, he began stroking their hair in sympathy. The tension leaked slowly out of their body, and they closed their eyes. “They really did not want to recognize me or Allura at all.”

“I thought it went alright.”

“That’s because those so-called _generals_ let you finish a sentence, Coran,” Allura said. Her back was straight and her chin high where she stood by the curtain, her shaking fingers the only outward sign of her bone-deep exhaustion. “I cannot believe their nerve. On Altea, such conceit was practically unheard of!”

“That’s Earth politics for ya, Princess,” Lance drawled, slinking in. He flopped himself, boneless, onto Hunk’s other half (and partially on Pidge, who punched him half-heartedly until he readjusted). Hunk rolled his eyes, but obligingly began petting his best friend as well. He was well accustomed to being a human bean bag/comfort blanket by now, not that he had any complaints.

“You two did great,” Shiro said. He, too, had to swallow down a scowl at the vision of those wizened white men smirking down their noses at Allura and Pidge, as well as the condescending tones they’d used with Lance and Hunk. He had hoped they’d gone unnoticed, but from the way the two clung together, he knew better. “You all did. And it gets better from here. None of us are doing any of it alone.”

“Indeed,” Allura agreed. Shiro felt his shoulders fall a degree or two when the team seemed to relax a few degrees.

“So what comes next?” Keith asked from his perch on top of the pool table in the corner. All eyes turned back to Shiro, attentive, who felt at a loss. How the hell should he know? He had no more of a place on the planet than Allura or Coran – no family or place to call home, at least. Looking at Keith and Pidge, he felt the sentiment echoing in their minds and inwardly winced. _Pull it together, Shirogane!_

“Well, that depends on what we want to do while we’re here, and whether or not we want to do those things together,” he eventually said.

* * *

 

Pidge really didn’t want to decide what to do on Earth. Even just the return trip had been hell, wondering how long Team Voltron had been away, and how much longer they still had to go after this visit was over. They had all lost track of the time, measuring their time in ticks and doboshes rather than seconds and days.

They pushed their face a little more firmly into Hunk’s side, smiling a little when he rubbed a hand along their shoulder before returning to their hair. They mentally blessed the bigger paladin, who, in little ways now and again, reminded them of Matt. Matt, who was often the only one who could keep up with Pidge’s brain. Matt, who was the perfect big brother, even when he ate the last piece of bacon or lost his nerve in the face of hate and prejudice. Matt, who had lost so much to the Galra, and was losing more still. Hunk was all these things to them – not exactly the same, but the similarities struck them where they stuck.

Coming back to the Garrison was the strangest experience for all of them, but Pidge felt the change in a way that they struggled to label as positive or negative. They were coming back to Earth with the one mission they had left with unfulfilled, coming back to the place where they’d had to hide everything about themselves and fold themselves into a mold they knew they didn’t fit into. They weren’t a soldier, they were a scientist; they weren’t a blank slate, ready to be made anew, but a flawed and broken-hearted kid looking for their family. And now…

Now they were a Paladin. They were still looking for their father and brother, but they weren’t a kid anymore, and not just a scientist either. They were a pilot, a hacker, a strategist, a warrior, a part of a whole that was so much bigger than just them. They were so much more than the Garrison could have made them, so much bigger than even a quest for family could have made them.

Their eyes darted around the room, at Shiro standing in the center of the room, back straight against his exhaustion - Shiro, who kept his head on when the rest of them were in shambles, even and especially when it cost him. At Allura by his side, who, even on unfamiliar ground faced with passive-aggression and snide hostility, never wavered to defend them, and never failed to defend her team. At Coran, bent over the foosball table and face twisted with curiosity at the furniture, who was the very definition of off-the-cuff, but somehow managed to make a floating moon-sized warship-turned-Castle feel like a place where each of them could belong. At Keith sitting with his head bowed atop the pool table, their counterpart as an arm and a true friend – sure, a stoic and solemn friend, but one who never backed down from a chance to help and support his team, even with all of his own questions and problems staring him in the face. At Lance, lying next to them, and at Hunk, who they were both lying on top of.

That’s what made this all the weirdest, Pidge decided. They left with a Lance and Hunk who were vastly different than the Lance and Hunk they returned with. Lance had always been loud and overly flirtatious, and Pidge suspected that would never change. But now he was quicker to listen, quicker to act with honor and responsibility, quicker to defend others above himself. And Hunk… Well, Hunk left a liability (little as Pidge liked to even think it these days) – easily queasy, timid and gentle. He was soft, and it cost all of them. Yes, when Hunk left the Garrison, he was holding them back.

Now he held them together. Held _Pidge_ together.

(Pidge, who left a she pretending to be a he and came back with the awareness that neither applied.)

Maybe that was the weirdest thing for Pidge. Five humans left the Earth; one team –  one _family_  returned. And Pidge had their answer.

“We shouldn’t split up,” they pipe up. Hunk’s hand paused against the crown of their head, and they squeezed him round the middle. “You all have put so much effort into helping me find my family. It’s only right that I meet all of yours. Besides, it seems a little weird to travel around the universe with you guys without knowing anything about where you come from.”

“I second that,” Lance added, holding his hand above his head. “You all would love my family. And they would love you. Yes, Keith, even you,” he said after Keith snorted pointedly, “although you might want to hold on to your mullet. My _abuela_ would cut it off in a second, and I won’t lift a finger to stop her.”

Pidge reached over and clamped a hand over Lance’s mouth. “Besides, I should probably go home to get some stuff of Dad and Matt’s, and I am _not_ doing that alone. I refuse.”

“And I would really like to see some of your cities, get a taste of your Earth food, see some of your customs,” Allura added. “And of course, meet your families. It’s the least I can do after keeping you away from home for so long.”

“I particularly would like to experience Earthly shopping,” Coran added.

“That can be arranged,” Shiro said, smiling. “We can each take a turn choosing a place to go visit – home for those who can, or a particularly interesting place for those who can’t. Is everyone alright with that?”

At the unanimous yes, Hunk jumped to his feet – ignoring the indignant Pidge and Lance, who’d fallen to the floor, and Keith and Shiro, who broke down laughing at the looks on their faces – and shouted, “Now let’s go eat!”

* * *

 

The patience Team Voltron displayed at the meeting with the generals paid off when the Garrison met them at the entrance with keys to a van that would fit all of them, plus a credit card for gas, food, and hotel rooms. (“Not for shopping,” Shiro made sure to point out to Coran and Lance the second they were on the road.) To the relief of all – including Shiro, despite his best attempts to look reproachful – Hunk and Lance’s history of sneaking out of the Garrison paid off when they led Shiro, the unanimous choice of driver, to a pizza place that, despite its grizzled appearance, served some of the best pizza known to man.

Allura eyed the so-called pizza dubiously. It was so…flat. And so strangely colored. And it looked very shiny, but not the iridescent shine of the Altean food – more like the shine of Shiro’s hair after he had sparred in the Castle. Surely they were not eating sweat, were they?

To the surprise of all, it was Pidge who moaned first. “I want to marry this pizza,” they groaned, their mouth stuffed full. “Allura, will you officiate the wedding?”

“Of…course?”

“They’re joking,” Shiro mumbled to her, his mouth also full of the strange substance. “Don’t you want any?”

“It looks…odd,” she admitted. “Like one of your lions stepped on an Arusian.” Suddenly, Shiro didn’t look quite so happy about the food on his plate.

“I hate that you’re right,” he said, looking queasily at the others, “but pizza is one of the staples of American food. And, at least for us humans, it tastes like heaven on a plate.”

Allura glanced at him, and took a slice, trying to forget her own metaphor. She mirrored Keith, who took what seemed to be a normal-sized bite, and immediately started choking.

“Jesus, Allura!” Shiro exclaimed, leaping up. He got behind her, wrapped his arms around her midsection (“Shiro, what are you doing?” Coran screeched, a sentiment Allura echoed in her mind), and pushed his linked hands up and into her. The offending piece of pizza unstuck and landed in her lap.

“You have to chew it,” Shiro said softly. “So you don’t choke.” He seemed to realize his arms were still around her and straightened up. Glared at Hunk, Lance, and Pidge, who were obviously trying not to crack up. “Don’t laugh. She had no reason to know that. We should have known to tell her.”

“But what if it’s like this for everything?” Allura asked, only partially to the others. “What if I don’t understand anything about this planet? Coran and I should have stayed at the Castle.”

“What?” Shiro asked. “No! You made one mistake – _one_. You got through an entire meeting with people trying to tear you down without once losing your nerve, and a single bite of pizza brings you down?”

“But you all love pizza, and I just don’t get it!” she exclaimed.

“Actually, I’m not the biggest fan either,” Keith admitted. “I mean, I’m eating it now, because it’s Earth food, and I’ve missed Earth food, but everyone has food they don’t particularly like. You’ll probably like soup more, because you hardly ever have to chew that, or Thai, because it tastes a bit like Altean food sometimes.”

“And you have us,” Shiro added. “Earth customs are old-hat to us, so we can easily tell you how best to experience them. We’ll just have to be a little more aware of the differences from now on, but it’ll be fine. It will,” he insisted when Allura looked skeptical. “No one gets left behind.”

“That’s not a rule of Voltron,” Allura protested.

“No,” Shiro agreed. “It’s a rule of Shiro.”

* * *

 

The rest of dinner went well, especially once Allura and Coran got used to the taste of pizza and Pidge, Lance, and Hunk stopped trading moans of love, but the latter started to feel nervous by the time dessert wrapped up (a truly delicious bowl of gelato for the each of them from a shop down the road – this time, with nothing but delight from Allura and Coran). His unabashed and full-hearted love of food could only distract him from what came next for so long.

Hunk wanted to go home. He missed his house, his room, his computer that he’d built by hand and his _Chopped_ DVD set. He missed his mom and his little sister like a physical ache, a constant reminder to _get home right now, right now, right now_.

But a part of him, the cowardly, anxious part of him, wanted to delay his return for as long as possible. Because how could he look Mary in the eye after he broke his promise to her? How could he look his mother in the eye after behaving so much like his father? How could he come into their house with a plea for forgiveness when he doubted he’d ever forgive himself?

And what if there was no sister to come home to?

So when Shiro pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and started ripping it into sevenths, he turned out to take in the street. It reminded him a bit of the descriptions of Hogsmeade he’d read to Mary as kids – part of why he’d always drag Lance out to this part of town. The road was dusty, rustic brick to match the sloping shops that lined the way. Hand-painted signs each proclaiming their names hung from awnings that were placed in front of each storefront to protect against the desert sun that never shone when he and Lance saw them, but now shimmered a lazy gold as it set for the night. Hunk preferred the view of the road at night, when all the colors dimmed to pastels and all the edges faded to the slightest of curves. He chose not to think about why.

“Alright, team,” Shiro announced after Allura threw away her cup with a wistful sigh. He held his hands cupped together around the ripped-up napkin. “I’m sure you know how this is going to go. Each piece of paper has a number on it. The person who pulls a one will go first, et cetera, et cetera. There will be no trading, and I mean that. Allura, will you start us off?”

Allura daintily pulled out a piece, seemingly pleased to announce that she pulled a four. Then Coran, who looked disgruntled to have pulled the seven. Pidge got a three, Keith got a six, Lance got a five (“Fifth!? I have to wait all the way until _five people have gone?!_ ” Hunk tuned him out after the sixth “outrageous”). That left him and Shiro, a one and a two. Hunk wasn’t honestly sure what he was hoping for, but…

“One,” he read out, leaving Shiro with the two. He tried to look excited, but God knew he was probably greener than Pidge’s lion at that point.

“Well, buddy,” Shiro asked, the whole table seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil, “where we headed?”

Hunk summoned up his brightest smile, trying to feel his sister’s hug and his mother’s warm smile and failing completely, as he told them.

“Memphis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter taking so long, but hey! Bonus Klance and Shallura! I wasn't planning on that until Shiro's chapter! I think I'm going to be sticking with a once-a-week chapter though, posting on Saturdays, so cross your fingers I can stick to that.  
> How are y'all liking the whole "skipping through each character's heads" thing? And would y'all be terribly upset if we never went into Coran's? I don't even begin to know what goes through his mind, and I don't think any of the rest of Team Voltron does either.  
> For those of you who got terribly confused about what order the team is in, it's Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Lance, Keith, and Coran. Hunk's home is in Memphis, so if there's anything in particular about Memphis you want me to include, let me know! Also, yes, each character is getting their own chapter, which means some chapters might be longer than other's. Lance and Keith's chapters in particular are planned to be extremely long for very different reasons, so prepare for those. (Also prepare for them to be late, tbh)  
> Anyway, I hope y'all are enjoying so far, and I hope that you continue to enjoy later!  
> Laterz!


	3. Memphis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith comes to a realization a little too late, and Hunk goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, warning for those who want one: this chapter has an OC with autism. That autism is NOT portrayed as a fault or a disease, but at certain points there is bigotry displayed. I hope I've represented autism well, but I am fully prepared to edit and remove anything that misrepresents those on the autism spectrum.  
> But on the bright side, I'm super early with this chapter! Thank Labor Day and friends holding me accountable!

Keith has never in his life felt more like a fool. He’s been a sucker before, getting tricked by society into thinking he was straight, or completely blindsided by the fact that he wasn’t entirely human. Some people might consider those easy things to overlook, but Keith had always felt like an outsider. He should have considered the intergalactic explanations much sooner, especially once Voltron came into play. And damn, does the period of his life in which he thought he might actually end up with a woman one day seem like the most laughable farce in all of history. Watch out Abbott and Costello, “Who’s on First” has nothing on “Keith Kogane’s Straight Phase”.

In other words, Keith is no stranger to feeling like an idiot. A halfwit. An ignoramous. A couple lions short of a Voltron transformation, and a room full of teleduvs away from a wormhole jump to the land of Intelligent People. But damn if he doesn’t feel like the biggest dunce for not seeing this coming.

“Then I’m walking in Memphis!” Lance scream-sang into his ear for like the fiftieth time that evening. Even Hunk, who was _from Memphis_ , was 100% done with this song, with Lance, and with this whole stupid road trip from hell. “I was walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale! Walking in Memphis! And do I really feel the way I feel?”

“If that feeling isn’t ‘homicidal’, then I doubt it,” Keith murmured to Pidge on his other side. (The fact that he was stuck in the middle instead of them, despite the fact that they were smaller, was just one more reason that Keith Was An Idiot.) Pidge snorted, but the comment seemed to backfire, since Lance glared at him and started singing even louder, even more directly at him.

Keith really ought to have known that a road trip with Lance was going to be a nightmare. The paladin had so much restless energy that sometimes even the Castle didn’t seem large enough to contain him. Not that Keith had a problem with that, especially lately. That frantic energy tended to keep Voltron’s momentum up, ensuring that they ended up _acting_ instead of just _discussing_. Keith in particular, although he’d never admit it, relied on it far more than he thought possible. After all, it’s pretty damn hard to feel bad about himself when he was on Lance Patrol with Shiro, and it’s downright impossible to fall into a depressive cycle with Lance constantly in “Rival Mode”. So, yeah. Lance’s energy had its uses.

But not when trapped in a van for twelve straight hours without outlet.

To be fair, Keith had been a little doubtful that Lance would have as much energy on Earth, considering his behavior back in the pod. The amount of fear it took to weigh him into stillness was gigantic; he’d only ever seen it in the most dire of circumstances in the battle against the Galra. So either Keith was a better motivational speaker than he’d thought (doubtful – laughable, even), or Lance had passed his fear onto someone else.

Which, looking at Hunk, seemed far more likely.

When he wasn’t actively planning Lance’s untimely murder, Keith was worried sick about Hunk. Each repetition of “Walking in Memphis”, each mile marker, and each direction he gave Shiro made Hunk paler and paler, until he was practically the same skin color as Coran. Keith could see his knuckles were bone white where his hands had clamped around the armrests, and the Yellow Paladin had stopped describing Earth food to Coran and Allura somewhere around the Tennessee border. Keith and Shiro exchanged worried glances in the rearview mirror a dangerous amount.

Keith wished all the gods he could think of that he had the words to help Hunk, but he seemed to run out after his conversation with Lance earlier. Was he afraid of his family? His town? Himself?

“Touched down in the land of Delta Blues in the middle of the pouring rain,” Lance crooned out, and Keith turned to snap at him again, only to find him singing directly at Hunk. The smile was still on his face, but his eyes were deadly serious. It was the Lance who had promised Keith that his family would love him. Keith closed his mouth on his reproach, instead putting a hand on Hunk’s shoulder with a prayer to Elvis himself that it would help.

“Touched down in the land of Delta Blues in the middle of the pouring rain…”

* * *

The sun had only just risen as they pulled into Hunk’s neighborhood, and Hunk tried to keep his mind on the sights that surrounded them. The sky was the palest of blues, the last of the gold highlights fading into the morning air and the cotton-ball clouds just beginning to form. The city had fixed the potholes by the entry, and Hunk could spot the seams where the two different ages of asphalt met. He wondered idly which millionaire had screwed up his (always _his_ in Memphis, much as Hunk hated it) suspension on that road to prompt its patch job.

He felt the eyes of his team on him as keenly as Keith’s hand on his shoulder. Another day, he’d feel ashamed that he was so openly losing it that he felt the need to intervene like that. Hunk was the carer; he sucked at being the caree.

He was, however, proud that he didn’t lose his breakfast as they pulled up to his house, especially when the sight of the front lawn alleviated one of his biggest worries – his mom and Mary did, in fact, still live there. He knew the curtains in the windows like the back of his hand, just like he knew the fat cat that sat on the sill.

“That’s Goldie,” he said shakily, pointing. “He was my cat growing up.”

“He matches Yellow,” Pidge commented softly, and Hunk laughed, no less unsteady.

“I know. As soon as I knew there was a yellow lion, I knew she would be mine.” He took a breath, took in the lawn. It was neat, if a bit brown from the late winter chill. Nothing had changed; everything had changed. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The walk to the front door stretched ahead like the galaxies they had crossed. Hunk felt Pidge take one hand and Lance take the other. He squeezed both and walked up. Part of him kind of wished Lance would break out in song again. Shiro pressed the doorbell for him, and Hunk was grateful; he was pretty sure he would have missed, himself.

The longest wait of his life – each heartbeat like the toll of the church bells at his own funeral – his hands dripping in sweat, but Lance and Pidge not letting go, never letting go – Shiro beside him, Keith and Allura and Coran at his back, _watching_ his back – and the sudden but hardly new rush of gratitude that they had come with him – there was no other way to go home, no other people he’d have stand beside him, except –

Mary opened the door, and Hunk could breathe again.

“Hunk?”

“Hello, Mary.”

And he let go of Pidge and Lance and held out his arms to catch his baby sister as she flew into his arms. She didn’t cry – never did, likely never would – but her arms were silk-coated steel around his neck, and her face was pressed so far into his neck that he was half-afraid she’d suffocate, and she didn’t need to cry when he did enough for the both of them.

* * *

Hunk had been a little disappointed to find that his mom wasn’t going to be home from work for another hour, but the disappointment faded quickly into euphoria when he laid eyes on his childhood kitchen.

“Oh, how I missed you, oven! I missed you fridge! Freezer! Microwave, you saucy minx, how I have longed for you!”

“‘Saucy minx’?” Lance teased, but the whole team seemed relieved at the life that had returned to Hunk’s eyes just within the last minute. Allura in particular had been grateful for his return to himself. She knew the whole team had a certain level of anxiety about being back on their home world, and they would need Hunk to keep them upright. She’d never really thought about it, back on the Castle, but the Yellow Paladin had a way of keeping everyone grounded beyond his place as the Leg. Lance’s ill-advised serenades and Keith’s awkward but well-meant attempt to support him all proved how much Team Voltron would need their emotional center in the days to come. Addressing his concerns first was fortuitous, indeed.

Allura couldn’t help but feel a touch guilty, though. This was going to have to be something they worked on once they returned to the Castle. In order for their bond to remain strong, they couldn’t rely on one member of the team to address the emotional needs of all of the others.

“Once you’ve done serenading the appliances,” Mary said from the doorway. “I have questions.” Allura frowned at the girl. She appeared a handful of years younger than Hunk – although with humans, who could tell – but she held herself stiffly, and her voice was far more monotone than she would have expected from a child.

Hunk turned to his sister, and the smile dimmed slightly as he nodded. “Of course you do. I promise to answer as many of them as I can. Do you want to ask in private, or are you alright with my friends here?” Allura bit back a frown; what was Hunk implying? And why did this Mary girl hesitate so?

“They can stay,” she said at last. Hunk nodded and hopped up on the kitchen island, making a point of keeping his eyes on Mary. “Where have you been?”

Hunk sighed heavily at that, running a hand through his hair. “Would you believe that with as much as I have been anticipating coming home, I still haven’t come up with a good way to answer that?”

“The truth will do.” Hunk nodded, as if he expected that, and glanced down at the kitchen tiles for a long moment before looking back at his sister.

“I was in outer space,” he said, as solemnly as Allura had ever seen him speak. “I was aboard this giant spaceship-castle thing fighting with these guys –” he gestured around at the rest of the team “against this evil empire of aliens who want to take over the entire universe. I was and am a pilot for this elite force called Voltron. Shiro, Lance, Pidge, and Keith are also pilots. Allura and Coran here are the last survivors of an alien race called Alteans, who all died fighting the Galra ten thousand years ago. We only just came home because we only just killed the evil emperor in charge of everything, Zarkon. We’re going to have to go again to take down the rest of the empire and to ensure that the universe doesn’t go to war against itself in the power vacuum.” He paused, hesitant now. “Do you believe me?”

Mary kept her eyes on the floor. “You’ve never lied to me before,” she said, and Allura saw Hunk brighten up, “but you’ve also never left me before.” Allura decided in the second that Hunk deflated that she did not like this Mary very much.

“I know,” Hunk said softly. “And I’m sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry to have left you like this. But the Earth was in danger. The entire Earth, and all the rest of the universe. It was a no-win situation, sis.”

Mary’s face was impassive, but Allura noticed little motions she made, like a stiff breeze took her. She swayed forward, onto the balls of her feet, then back onto her heels, over and over again, in time with some unheard metronome. She was reminded of a race of aliens that the Galra had killed off many years ago – the St’laions, she believed – who rocked in such a way when they were threatened or simply tired.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” the girl said slowly, as if taking every precaution to ensure the words came out in the right order, “but why you? You weren’t even training to be a pilot at the Garrison.”

“If I may,” Shiro asked, waited for Mary’s hesitant nod. “Your brother is an irreplaceable member of our team. I may not be able to speak for everyone, but I personally see him, and every member of Team Voltron, as family. Even beyond that, he has proven himself as both an excellent pilot and mechanic during our time away.”

“Besides that,” Allura added, confused at Mary’s jolt of surprise – had the younger girl forgotten her presence? – “the pilots of Voltron are not decided upon by what they studied in school, but by their bonds with the ancient lions who make up the team.”

Mary blinked at her for an uncomfortably long time before turning to her brother. “Did – did I hear her right? ‘Bonds with the ancient lions’?”

Hunk laughed a little, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s the thing about Voltron. Each ship that we pilot is actually a giant mechanical lion that mentally bonded with us. Mine is the Yellow Lion, Shiro’s is Black, Lance’s is Blue, Pidge’s is Green, and Keith’s is Red. And when the five of us work really hard to focus on the bond between all of us, we can kind of transform into this one huge robot dude, with like, a sword and a shield and wings and everything.” Hunk beams at Mary as he announces, “I’m a Leg.”

Again, Mary stood blinking, until she asked, sounding even more bemused, “Did you just read me a summary of a Thundercats/Power Rangers crossover in space?” Allura glanced over at Coran, who looked equally bewildered. How was Mary the confused one when she was the one talking nonsense? Before she managed to even begin to phrase her complete confusion, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge burst out in helpless laughter.

“Oh! Oh, man,” Lance giggled. “How did I never think of that? That’s exactly what we are!” Pidge punched him in the arm, grinning.

“At least you don’t have to hand in your nerd card now,” they gasped out between bouts of laughter. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look Matt in the face once we do find him.”

“Who’s Matt?” Mary asked, and Allura could feel the laughter leave the room.

“My brother,” Pidge answered. “He and my dad were on the Kerberos mission with Shiro when the Galra found them and kidnapped them. Shiro managed to escape with the help of some Galra rebels called the Blades of Malmora, but we’re still looking for my family.”

“That’s another reason I have to go back, sis,” Hunk tacked on. Mary considered for a long moment, then nodded.

“I believe you,” she said at last. “Dad won’t, though.”

Allura blinked; one minute she was in the same room as Hunk, the reliably upbeat and loving paladin from her team, the next, she was looking at his very angry stone replica.

“Dad?” he growled. The whole team seemed to recoil, but not Mary, who smiled for the first time since Allura had seen her. “You’re talking to Dad again?”

“Ever since you disappeared,” Mary replied, reached out to take his hand when he very visibly flinched. “It’s not your fault. Mom says he’s been looking for a reason to butt his head in for a while. Especially once I started doing well in school and the rumors about me went away.” Allura wasn’t entirely sure what Hunk said in response to that, but judging by Shiro’s look of reproach and Pidge’s impressed grin, she was almost certain that was a blessing in disguise. Mary simply nodded. “And it gets worse.”

“Oh, _does it now_?”

“He’s pushing Mom to put money into an organization he started to find a cure.”

“He _WHAT NOW_?”

“Mary?” Allura jolted when she heard a feminine voice behind her. She turned and found herself face-to-face with a pretty middle-aged woman who was clearly Hunk and Mary’s mother, holding a pair of brown bags in her arms. Her face was lined, especially around the eyes, and her hair was starting to gray around the temples, but there was something innately warm about her face, especially in her eyes. “Well, hello, who are all –” The woman finally saw Hunk, and the bags collapsed from her hands onto the ground, spilling what Allura guessed was more human food, but the woman took no notice as she slowly approached her son. “Joseph?”

Hunk smiled, slow and timid again. “Hi, Mom.” Allura smiled not without envy as mother and son embraced once more. And then jumped when the door flew open with a bang.

“Damn it, Sami, you can’t just walk away when I’m talking to –” A man burst into the kitchen, and it took Allura a second longer to pick out who she was looking at. The man was handsome, tall and square-cut and about as golden as Allura has seen a human get, but he had a hard, implacable glint in his eye that Allura distrusted instantly. But the chin and the ears gave him away; this was Hunk’s father. But with only a glimpse behind her at Hunk, who was stony once again, at his mother, who suddenly looked a number of shades paler, and at Mary, who was rocking wildly now, and she knew this wasn’t going to be a happy reunion. Without a word, Allura took a step towards Mary and slowly brushed a hand along her forearm. When she leant it slightly, Allura took it as her cue to wrap an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. She made eye contact with Shiro, who was braced against the wall, ready for what needed to be done. A glance at the others confirmed they were all equally prepared.

The silence stretched and bent, before the man in the doorway settled back on his heels, eyed his son dubiously. “So, you’re back. What kept you?”

“I was abducted by aliens,” Hunk spat. “What’s your excuse?” The man laughed, strolled in with his eyes fixed on his son. He took an apple from the bowl on the island, seemed to issue a challenge as he took a bite.

“You’d think with the two years you’ve been gone you’d have managed a more convincing lie, son,” he drawled. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“I’m sure I do,” Hunk shot back. “But none of it from you.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“I have nothing to learn from a man who thinks there’s anything wrong with my sister,” Hunk declared. “She doesn’t need to be cured, and she doesn’t need you swindling money away from her college education or away from Mom just because you decided it was safe to take an interest again.”

“She’s autistic, Hunk,” the man argued.

“Yep,” Hunk agreed. “But unlike you, I love her for it. Mary’s perfect just the way she is.”

“Perfect?” the man exclaimed, incredulous. “Just look at her!” He threw a hand over towards Allura and Mary, who was still rocking furiously. “Rocking and shaking and completely incapable of behaving like a normal freaking human being!”

“Does her rocking hurt anybody? No. Does her shaking hurt anybody? Does her – and I quote – ‘not acting like a normal freaking human being’ hurt anybody? No. It does not. It helps her, and it is a part of her, and it does no harm,” Hunk said. “Do you know what did a hell of a lot of harm? You walking out on your family when we needed you most. You coming back in like you own the place after we’ve made a life without you. You yelling at Mom again and trying to con her out of her hard-earned money. Out of the two of you, you’re the one who needs the helping. Too bad no one’s making any organizations to cure jackassery.”

“Joseph –”

“My name is Hunk,” he declared. “I want no part of you – not your time, not your effort, and not your name. You can leave, or I can make you.”

“You?” The man Allura now knew was named Joseph laughed, and she hated him just a little more. “The pudgy kid who skipped out of PE every time he had the chance? The one who loves donuts more than he loves his own family? The one –” Hunk took two steps forward, grabbed his father by the throat, and pinned him to the doorway with one hand.

“I am the Yellow Paladin of Voltron. I have fought emperors and witches and Robobeasts and walked out of each encounter victorious. I have liberated entire planets and saved the universe from complete annhilation. And I am not alone. You, on the other hand, are.” Hunk smiled brightly, coldly. “I like those odds. Do you?”

Joseph seemed to struggle to speak for a moment, but finally ripped away and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. There was silence for a long moment, but then Mary started to laugh. After a moment, the rest of the room joined her. Allura decided that this Mary girl must not be so bad, after all.

* * *

Hunk was relieved when his mother accepted his explanation for his absence with little to no prodding. He was even more relieved when she took them all out for barbecue, since she’d dropped her groceries on the floor. Hunk knew an excuse when he saw one – most of the stuff in the bags were prepackaged – but he didn’t care. He’d missed Memphis barbecue.

“Hunk Garett, action hero!” Lance laughed over his sandwich once more when they’d gotten seated. Hunk was a little curious why he’d chosen to sit where he had – between Pidge and Keith – instead of between Allura and his mom. When he’d met his mom in the past, he never used to miss a shot to flirt with her, and that was doubly true where Allura was concerned, but he shrugged it off.

“I don’t know where that came from, honestly,” he lied easily. In truth, he’d been working on variations of that speech ever since he joined Voltron. Still, probably best not to let on how much he enjoyed doing that. Well, to anyone but Mary, who he knew had spotted the lie coming a mile away. Still, he relaxed once the conversation turned away from his action hero moment and onto some of the funnier stories from their time in space. He turned to Mary, who was studying him over her catfish. “What?”

“You’ve grown,” she observed quietly. “You fit you now.”

He sat with that a moment, observing her back. Then he smiled, took her hand. “You do too. It’s a good look.”

“I know.” They smiled at each other, gripped the other’s hand. For a long moment, they just enjoyed their food and Lance’s over-the-top description of Hunk’s prowess with food goo. After a minute, though, Mary turned back, her face thoughtful. “Is there any way you’d take me with you?”

Every Kill Bill siren in Hunk’s head went off at once, but he shut them off, annoyed. And he considered. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “You were never into technology like I was, and there isn’t any room for another paladin right now. So there’s not really anything for you to do on the Castle – which, besides making it a hard case to sell to Allura and Coran, means that you would probably hate it there.”

“I’d be in space,” Mary argued simply.

“The Castle has artifical gravity,” Hunk replied. “I’ve only ever experienced zero gravity a handful of times.”

“Well, never mind then.” The two laughed, and Hunk relaxed back into his seat. Yeah, everything was going to be okay. For the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Shiro takes Team Voltron to San Francisco!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite its change in tone and style. Expect next chapter to be way more laid back, if no less angsty. I still plan on updating on Saturday, so fingers crossed!


	4. Graceland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk's visit home continues with a walk down Memory Lane.  
> Shiro and Pidge struggle with what being back on Earth means to them and for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who has had the shittiest of semesters? Sorry for taking so long, but taking care of myself has been more and more difficult lately. I am determined to complete this fic, no matter what, but please understand that it's going to take me some time.  
> This chapter is pretty heavy, showing glimpses of toxic/abusive/violent family relationships, Southern typical sexism/racism, and hints to familial rape. None of it is explicit, but any of these things bother you, take whatever self-care measures you need.  
> Be warned: I have never been to Graceland. I have been to Memphis once or twice, but it's been years.  
> Also, reminder that I have not seen beyond Season 2 (and will not until this fic is done). That means even though I'm probably reinventing the wheel with some of my OCs, it's my wheel, damn it!

At age eight, Joseph knew four things for certain: he loved his sister more than anything in all the universe; he would never get tired of watching his mother cook; he would rather play on a computer than a football field; and his father was an awful person. That last thing was never acknowledged in the Garett household, not even within the depths of Joseph’s quicksilver mind, but sometimes, in other places – birthday parties, career days, the occasional sleepover – the thought would surface like a forgotten coin in a pants pocket before immediately displaced again.

The other three things were topics of constant discussion, mostly by Joseph, Sr.

“For Christ’s sake, boy!” A golden face darkened by temper, thunderclouds stretched across the sun. Barked words from bared teeth, a display of dominance from the alpha wolf, completed by the usage of the height difference for father to loom over son. “Boys don’t play Barbie with their sisters, damn it! You don’t wanna be a girl, do you?” Joseph didn’t think playing with Mary made him a girl; that’s what Ken dolls were for. (A grown Hunk, Yellow Paladin and eyewitness to the badassery of an abundance of women, from his mother to the last daughter of Altea, wondered if he and his father would have a better relationship if he didn’t think being a girl was something to be ashamed of.)

“You’re spoilin’ him, Sami.” A dire warning and righteous reproach, mixing into the perfect poison. The cookie in Joseph’s mouth going ashen, and the growing numbers on the bathroom scale flashing before his eyes. “Gonna turn into a real sissy, acting like such a momma’s boy. And for God’s sakes, stop feeding the boy so much!” Even after he was gone, and his mother was smiling again, her brown eyes soft and warm as she showed him how to roll out the perfect puff pastry, Joseph felt every pound of himself, every inch of fat. Later, though, his mother would let him mix the filling, so he stayed in the comfortable heat of the lit stove and his mother’s love.

“Enough messing around with that shit, son.” An order, followed by another in the form of a finger, pointing outside at the cousins playing flag football. Joseph hated flag football, and his father knew it. He glanced longingly down at the kid’s circuitry kit he’d gotten for his birthday a few months ago. He’d already finished with the list of recommended experiments within the first few weeks, so he’d been making up his own since then, little things to amuse himself or to try to ensnare Mary in science-y things, too. Still, an order was an order, and Joseph knew what happened if he dared disobey. The cousins didn’t need another thing to torment him about. He glanced over at Mary, the only reason he would consider staying inside against orders, but the aunts seemed to have left her alone for the moment. She was coloring one of the princess books they’d brought her, and she could easily keep doing so for the rest of the afternoon without anyone picking at her.

The cousins were all from his father’s side of the family, all equally golden and all-American and appropriately athletic. Joseph felt unwelcome, both too much like his Samoan mother and too much of him there physically, to belong. Mark, at thirteen, was always looking for a newer, shinier face to shove into the dirt, so of course, he was the first to spot Joseph. Something within him shriveled at the sharklike grin that stole across his face.

“Well, how do you like that?” the older boy called out, ready to put on a show for the younger boys. “The little princess wants to play with the boys!”

“Not such a little princess,” his brother Luke commented, much to the enjoyment of the others. Luke was the next oldest, and at twelve, he enjoyed his own share of the action, but more dangerously, had something to prove – that he could be just as cruel as his brother, Joseph guessed. Or that he could punch as hard, both with words and the inevitable fists. Joseph considered turning around and walking straight back to his latest experiment, but decided against it. The sharks could smell the blood in his veins, and they were beginning to circle.

“Dad said I had to come play,” Joseph offered, deciding to bite the proverbial bullet straight off.

“Alright, princess,” Mark replied, his grin widening. “Let’s play.”

To the surprise of no one who even remotely knew him, Joseph only knew the bare bones of how most sports were played. Still, what few things he knew about football, and the fewer things he knew about flag football, didn’t seem to apply to the game that the Garett cousins were playing. At one point, after being pushed to his knees or onto his butt or face-first into the dirt, he wondered if they’d abandoned the ball altogether and started using him to kick around instead.

By the time they were called into supper, Joseph was bruised to hell and looked as if he’d been rubbing dirt into every pore of his skin.

“Lord Almighty!” Grandmother Garett had exclaimed upon seeing him. “Joseph, look at your son! He looks like a pig, covered in dirt like that! Samantha, you really should teach your son restraint when playing outside, goodness knows none of the other boys got that dirty.” Joseph’s mother, whose full first name was Sami, not Samantha, not that her mother-in-law knew or cared, would always bundle up Joseph and get him cleaned up and away from the other Garetts, didn’t get the chance this year.

“Maybe that’s because the other boys were beating him up,” Mary piped up, and the whole room turned to look at her. She didn’t seem to notice, her attention firmly on the section of Cinderella’s skirt that she was coloring. “But it’s funny that you mention restraint, Grandmother, after I saw you drink a whole bottle of wine when you didn’t think anyone was watching. Or that you didn’t tell Aunt Louise about restraint when she kissed Uncle Pete when Aunt Annie was in the bathroom.” It was hard to tell who was more horrified at that point, Grandmother Garett, Aunt Louise, Uncle Pete, Aunt Annie, or Pete and Annie’s son Simon. But it didn’t matter, because Mary kept going. “Of course, if anyone here deserves a lecture, maybe it should be Uncle Bobby, who I saw go into Cousin Jessie and Cousin Emma’s room at the hotel last night, or Aunt Ivy who called someone after lunch to buy something called Xanax, which sounds like a drug to me. Is it time for dinner yet?”

Joseph heard the clock on the wall tick seven times, the time between each one ever longer, before chaos erupted. Mary looked up from her coloring book for the first time since she started talking, eyes wide with surprise at the sudden cacophany. Joseph watched her eyes shift to fear a second later, and turned to see Uncle Bobby lunging for her, face discolored and contorted with rage. His body ached from hours of abuse, but Mary had gone stone still with panic, so Joseph threw himself in Uncle Bobby’s path, crying out when the grown man landed on top of him, grabbing and pushing at him to try to keep him from getting to his sister. Fury made the man volatile, so when he couldn’t get to Mary, Bobby turned his anger to Joseph, punching with the kind of force that made Joseph wish he were back outside with the boys.

In a flash between punches, Bobby was gone, and his mother, her usually kind brown eyes blazing like a wildfire, was scooping him up in one arm, Mary the next second in the other, and he was being carried (a feat that his mother would later admit surprised even her in retrospect) to the bathroom in the rear of the house. Joseph, curled up and whimpering on the cold tile, heard the lock click a moment later, before she was back, whispering words that Joseph couldn’t understand but were calming regardless.

Joseph couldn’t see very well out of one of his eyes, one of Bobby’s blows causing it to swell shut, but out of the other, he could see the inferno in his mother’s eyes smoldering down to embers. By the time she had switched back to English, her eyes were once again the comforting warmth of love and affection, dampened slightly by the shine of tears.

“I am so proud of you, baby,” she sighed as she tended to his injuries. “You were a real hero today, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“I think Cousin Wendy was wrong earlier,” Mary announced, and Joseph and their mother turned to hear what she had to say. “She said Daddy was the hunk of the family, but I think it’s you, Joseph.”

Their mother threw back her head and laughed once, hard, before pressing a gentle kiss into Mary’s hair. “And why’s that, baby?”

“When I asked Cousin Wendy what a hunk was, she said it was big man who’s real strong and stuff.” Mary turned, and Joseph saw her struggle to look him in the eye before giving up and dropping her eyes down to his hands. “That’s exactly what you are.”

Their mother laughed again, softer this time, fonder. She pressed another kiss to one of the few spots on his face that didn’t throb, and agreed. “You’re right as always, Mary honey. Thanks for being our hunk, baby.”

It hurt a lot, but Joseph didn’t bother to hold back his smile. “Hunk, huh, Mary?”

* * *

Shiro glanced over at Hunk on the car ride back to the Garett house when he snorted suddenly. His face was directed toward the scenery of downtown, but his attention was clearly elsewhere.

“What’s up, hon?” Mrs. Garett asked. She had offered to drive everyone back in the van, which only just fit everyone, with Mary sitting in Allura’s lap and Pidge in Shiro’s. Shiro had considered briefly arguing, since it was neither safe nor legal, but in the end figured that it was no more dangerous than ninety percent of what they did as Team Voltron, and the worst legal consequence they’d get would be a fine – which would hardly be a worry, what with leaving the state in a couple days, and the planet in a couple of weeks. The fact that having someone else take the wheel after however many hours of driving he’d done earlier that day was irresistible.

“Just remembering the Great Garett Family Implosion of ’04,” Hunk grinned, looking over at his mother from the passenger seat. Mary kicked the back of his seat, hard, and glared at the back of his head fiercely.

“You know I hate talking about that,” she whined. “Especially in front of people I don’t know well.”

“You know Lance,” Hunk pointed out. “And you and Allura seem to be getting along. Besides, the team has been asking me for years now how I got the name Hunk. I wanna finally tell them.” Shiro grinned when he noticed Hunk pulling out the Saddest Paladin Puppy Dog Eyes, and snorted when Mary just rolled her eyes.

“Short version: Hunk saved me from getting assaulted by our perverted Uncle Bobby, and I parroted a term I heard one of the cousins use, and it stuck,” Mary said, stuttering in places, and Shiro felt sympathy well up in him. He knew what it was like to be hurt by family, how the fear and betrayal of it lingered, even with distant relatives.

“With a name like Uncle Bobby, it’s no surprise he’s a pervert,” Pidge commented from his lap, and he jostled them with his knees, glaring when they turned back to look at him. From the driver’s seat Sami Garett laughed, high and loud.

“You have no idea,” she commented. “I always hated Joseph’s side of the family, but Bobby in particular gave me the creeps. Not that Joseph ever saw anything wrong with him until Jessie admitted that he’d hurt her. Poor girl,” she added, partially an afterthought as she turned into the Garett’s driveway.

“Yeah, how’s she doing these days?” Hunk asked, and the conversation drifted into the Who’s Who of his old friends and family. Shiro mostly tuned it out as he clambered out of the van and stood, stretching, at the tail end of the van, staring out at the suburban street. It was dark, the only light streaming down in orange cones from streetlights dotted here and there down the lane. The air was cool, chilly even when the wind kicked up – it was late January, after all – but it wasn’t uncomfortably so, what with it being Tennessee and all. Somewhere, someone had a fire going in their fireplace; Shiro could smell the smoke of it. The best part, Shiro decided, was the quiet. Sure, the team and the Garetts were talking together as Sami got the door open for them, but other than that, the street was quiet. But not silent. The streetlights buzzed with electricity, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked its alarm. If Shiro listened really hard, he might have even heard the cars on the highway passing the subdivision by. It was the quiet that he might have once confused for silence. It was the quiet of exactly the kind of still night Shiro would have raged against in his adolescence.

“Alright there, Shiro?”

He turned to see Coran standing just behind him, and Allura in the doorway of the house. He could hear everyone else’s voices inside.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said. “Everything’s good.” He almost left it there, but Allura was giving him one of her patented Don’t Think I Can’t See Straight Through You Looks (the ones that made Shiro very, very afraid that she really could, and absolutely petrified and ashamed at what she might see). He sighed.

“It’s the strangest thing,” he said. “The things I find myself noticing are things I didn’t even think about for a fraction of a second when they were here, or even for that long when they were taken from me. The quiet of night that’s not totally silent. Inside jokes I don’t understand and friends of friends I’ll likely never meet. Mundane conversations about nothing that don’t leave me feeling like wasted time, wasted energy.”

He pointed up at the sky, in what he thinks is the general direction of the Castle. “I was in charge up there. I’ve been in charge for two years now, longer if you count my time as Champion, and longer still if you count my initial Kerberos trip. I’m not in charge of anything down here. I should feel relieved, but instead I just feel unsettled.” _Rambling, Shiro_ , he thought. _And in front of Allura, too._ He clamped his mouth tight, although he could feel the nervous spray of words building up on his tongue.

Coran leaned back against the van, considering, but Allura walked right up to him, his mouth clamped tighter as the fountain of words grew more insistent, backed up into his throat until he felt like he was going to choke on them.

Allura took Shiro’s hand.

“I know just what you mean,” she said.

And, for just a fraction of a second, there was silence.

* * *

Hunk’s whole life, for so much of his life, was Memphis. It was mostly an accidental thing – growing up, his parents had always had vague plans to take him and Mary down to Florida, up to New York City, on a plane to San Francisco or to meet his mother’s family in Pago Pago. But there was always some reason they couldn’t go that summer, that winter break, that spring. Money, work, extracurriculars, and, in the last few years before his father left, often some form of “punishment” against Mary for “inappropriate behavior”. (At least, that’s what he told his colleagues, beer in hand and with a knowing, fatherly laugh. The language used behind closed doors, his belt replacing the beer and very much sans laughter, was much less civilized.) After he left, Hunk and Mary left thoughts of distant vacations behind; their mother worked hard enough just to keep food on the table.

By the time he turned fourteen, Hunk had mostly forgotten about life outside Memphis, counting down the days until he turned sixteen, until he could get a job, until he could get his license, until he could finally start to do _something_ to lift some of the unbearable weight off of his mother’s shoulders. And then he’d gotten his letter from the Garrison.

In retrospect, he wondered if Mary hadn’t contacted them first; sure, he’d built his own computer, taught himself programming, won his fair share of science fairs, but he didn’t consider most of that anything special. Certainly nothing worth a damn to the Garrison. They were practically military, for Christ’s sake. The tech was only as important if it helped its planes go farther, faster, furiouser. Even in the fight against the Galra, Pidge was the science expert, the technician. Then and now, a full ride to the Garrison felt incongruous with reality, some glitch in the Matrix that was, for whatever reason, allowed to persist.

Hunk hated roller coasters. Carnival rides. Elevators that went up or down too quickly. He didn’t want to go to space. He didn’t want to really even be a mechanic, on space ships or otherwise. He was about as suited for a quasi-military academy as a corgi for a combat zone.

He had to go.

At the Garrison, he would be one less mouth to feed. At the Garrison, he could pursue a science-heavy curriculum without using ten-year-old technology scrounged up from Ebay and thrift shops. At the Garrison, he would get an education that could stand out on college applications – hopefully earning him a full ride to Rhodes College or University of Memphis. At the Garrison, he could get a real shot at making his dreams (a job at Google, maybe, or, if he could swing it, something – anything – at Disney) a reality without costing Mary or his mother theirs.

At fourteen, Hunk had lived his whole life in Memphis and never been to Graceland. The last day before he left, a handful of his school friends had shown up on his doorstep and “kidnapped” him, dragging him and Mary out to the King’s palace.

“I don’t even like Elvis that much!” he had laughed as Dex, who, as the only one old enough to drive, unlocked his mother’s battered minivan and shoved him toward the passenger seat.

“Silence, heathen!” Brian, the sole extrovert among them, decreed. “May no one decry the name of His Presleyness!” He bounced into the car and grinned at Mary, who was trying not to smile. (He noticed she’d begun to rock, but her hands were still and her eyes were focused, so he let it slide for the moment.)

“Fuck off, idiot,” Rissa, Hunk’s newly exed girlfriend, grumbled. Hunk desperately hoped the time and distance would help her get over him, that when he came back for winter break, she and he could have something resembling a friendship again.

(It didn’t even occur to him until he was watching Balmera fade away behind him, fiercely determined to save them, to save _Shay_ , that he should have hoped that it helped him get over her too. And then, after Team Voltron had returned to save the planet and Hunk was forced to leave again, to hope that he’d been wrong before. That not all long-term relationships were doomed to fail. That this one, this timid thing with Shay that neither had the vocabulary to put into words, could bloom despite the light years between them and the doboshes and doboshes and doboshes of time between visits.)

That night, Hunk couldn’t tell you about the exhibits, the museum, crazy Elvis impersonators and wide-eyed tourists. He didn’t care about Elvis, and neither did his friends. But he remembered every second of Dex’s snide mockery of the tour guide under his breath that had Hunk and the rest in stitches (“Bless your heart, you actually think we’re listening, don’t you?), Brian’s increasingly ridiculous names for Elvis (Hunk’s favorite being “His Eternal Nutter of Butter, Hound of Dogs, and Patron of Rocks and Rolls Everywhere”), the caricatures of the other tourists Rissa covertly drew in her sketchbook (Hunk had once had the picture of the three kids pulling their father behind him by their leash a la Santa and his reindeer hanging in his shared room at the Garrison before Lance had claimed it as his own without Hunk noticing), and how Mary had held his hand the whole time (and started tapping “Hound Dog” out against his wrist in Morse Code about halfway through).

Years later, though, he would look up from his place in the leg of Voltron and see Shiro? Keith? all of them? run Zarkon through with a sword, and he would feel the words vibrate out from Green, could feel the accusation drive into his wrists:

__  
You ain’t nothing but a hound dog  
_Cryin all the time_  
_You ain’t nothing but a hound dog_  
_Cryin all the time  
_ _Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine_

  
And even years later, he wouldn’t know who the King was speaking to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ding ding! We are officially past the 10,000 word point. If you are reading this as a completed work, this is your first self-care break. Do you need to take your meds? Pee? Eat or drink something? Stretch? Take care of it. This will be here when you get back, I promise.  
> Done?  
> Okay, I know I said we'd be going to Frisco next, but Hunk's time didn't feel done to me, and I make the rules. So, uh, everyone gets TWO chapters? I guess? I wanna treat everyone equally and stuff, so...  
> I'm not even going to give the barest idea of a promise about when I'm coming back. But please be aware that I WILL be coming back. I've already got a pretty good start on Shiro's chapter, including a surprise headcanon and yet another OC! There are going to be a lot of those, if you haven't noticed yet, so hold on y'all.  
> Whatever, next time we WILL be off to San Francisco for Shiro's turn. And yeah, as much as I'd like to offer an angst-free chapter, it's Shiro. I love me one angsty Shiro.


End file.
